


The Life You're Meant to Live

by shake_off_everything20



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF
Genre: Coming Out, Coming of Age, Friendship, Gay Male Character, Gay Parents, Gay Pride, High School, Love Victor - Freeform, M/M, Male Friendship, New York City, Queer Families, Shyness, Single Parent Families, Victor Salazar - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:41:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24564031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shake_off_everything20/pseuds/shake_off_everything20
Summary: What if, suddenly, you realize you can have the life you desire-the life you are meant to live?New York City high school student Alex Jones-Mazzello befriends classmate Sam Diaz, who takes a bold step, inspired by Alex’s family.This 2-part story is written from Sam’s perspective and in his voice.
Relationships: Ben Hardy/Joe Mazzello
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While there is fortunately more acceptance of LGBTQ families, I wrote this thinking of those for whom acceptance isn’t or doesn’t seem possible. I also wanted to give a shout-out to the courageous pioneers who fought -and those who continue to fight- legal battles, personal discrimination and real daily obstacles to live their fulfilling and honest lives. 
> 
> This story is a celebration of friendship, families and honoring and being accepted for your true self. 
> 
> It's based on my series, Love Is Love Is Love, which features the Jones-Mazzello Family.
> 
> Feel free to visit/connect on [ Tumblr ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thosequeenboys)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex invites Math Club acquaintance Sam over for studying and introduces him to his family. The visit becomes extended as a storm picks up.

Part 1

Starting a new high school in September certainly was an adjustment, especially on the heels of moving to New York City from Upstate last summer for my mom’s new job. Coming from a school with under 1,000 students to one with over 5,000 students was like navigating another city, within a city. 

I lost count of the number of dreams, no, nightmares, that invaded my sleep over the last four months: a forgotten locker combination, a dash down the long hall as the bell rang signaling the start of class, a perp walk into said class late, all eyes upon me as the teacher derided, “Sam Diaz. You’re late.” Four months later, I felt I had the hang of things and gotten to know some people. I couldn’t exactly call them friends, but it was a start, considering they all had some history together. The anxiety had abated, well mostly.

After school on an early December afternoon, Math Club was in full gear. Our school, Borough Tech, was second in the division. We were preparing for a competition with our main rival, City Science, the following week. Math Club reflected the intellectually charged environment of our elite public high school. Yet, it successfully peeled away the hyper competitiveness and allowed for team camaraderie, as we focused on a collective goal. For me, Math Club was a welcome, small academic haven. One of the good things about Math Club is you can be perceived as doing something ‘social’ thereby getting adults off your back, while keeping the talk to safe zones: numbers and strategies and points. 

Snow was predicted. Not an uncommon occurrence in December in New York City. Although if more than just a ‘dusting’ was expected, unnecessary hysteria accompanied it. Clearly these, er, snowflakes didn’t understand what real snow and cold looked like. Much ado about nothing. 

We gathered around the two whiteboards at either ends of the classroom finishing our first round of problems. Our advisor, Mr. Reiner, stared out the window as the timers went off. “Looks like the snow is starting to pick up. Time to get you on your way,” he said with urgency. Here we go, I thought, envisioning waking up to the winter sun glistening on random patches of snow on clear sidewalks. 

Nonetheless, we gathered our bookbags and bundled up against the wind and snow, which actually was starting to stick. It was 3:30. It felt like we had a whole day in front of us, because usually we departed long after darkness had taken over the sky. A quick dinner and a few hours of homework separated us from our beds. 

I walked out of the classroom with Alex. I didn’t know him well. We shared some classes and Math Club, of course, and on occasion, we studied together in the library after school. He was really good in math, like I was. Unlike me, however, he literally turned heads with his wavy blonde hair, green eyes and porcelain skin. But his understated demeanor belied the heart throb image. He actually seemed a little clueless. Brains, beauty and humbleness? Some guys have all the luck. He was generally reserved, like me, so needless to say, we hadn’t really talked much. 

As we approached the end of the hallway that took up half a city block, Alex pushed the heavy steel door, and we stepped outside, pulling our scarves closer to our necks. Suddenly the Math Club was enveloped by cold wet snow. After bidding good-bye, we parted in small groups. A bunch of us trampled the few blocks to the nearest subway. The familiar green globe that marked the subway entrance ahead spurred us to quicken our pace. Upon arrival, we heartily took the steps down. We swiped our fare cards, and descended another stairway, grateful for the sudden rush of warmth from the subway tracks. Peering into the tunnel, I was relieved to see the reassuring two parallel lights in the distance that signaled the soon arrival of the train that would take us deeper, to home. 

We stepped back instinctively as the train screeched into the station, and five seconds after it halted, the doors opened. The conductor’s steady voice announced the train line and its final destination. We boarded, and the next station was announced. The conductor implored us to stand clear of the closing doors, and then the sing-song bells chimed, warning of the doors’ closure. I liked the subway’s predictable routine and rhythms, which kept the city running 24/7, and allowed me autonomy to roam my new land. 

The train was fairly empty as rush hour hadn’t yet hit. We each grabbed the bar overhead, and Alex turned to me and spoke quietly. 

“Hey, you, uh, have to get home? If you want, you can come over for a bit and do homework. Practice some problems with the phone timer since Club ended early?” Alex asked. 

Homework AND Math Club? I was there. “Uh, sure, I’m not in a rush. My mom has the evening shift.” I noted, not really sure why I interjected personal information that wasn’t asked. 

“What does she do?” Alex asked, sincerely interested. Honestly, it felt nice to have someone interested in me, in my life outside of school.

“She’s a pediatric nurse at Langone. A Head Pediatric Nurse.” I didn’t intend to sound boastful, but I was proud of that Lydia Diaz. 

“Really Impressive.” Alex said. “And…”

I wasn’t sure if he wanted my mom’s vitals or…

“Other members of the fam?” Alex supplied.

“Oh, it’s just the two of us.” I answered quickly. The truth was it’s always been the two of us. Being a family of two makes ‘life decisions’ like moving to New York City from a sleepy upper New York State town easier, but other stuff harder. 

I had reached my limit for personal chat, so I switched the discussion back to Math Club. 

“What formula did you use for the problem at the board?” I breathed out, happily trampling on familiar ground. 

“Two stops,” Alex said, absent-mindedly peering at the subway map overhead, before he gave his answer.

Released back into the snowy afternoon, we walked a few blocks toward Alex’s home. He halted in front of a four-story house, and we climbed the brown steps covered with white. Alex keyed the lock. Inside, a rectangular black rug with swirls of muted primary colors seemed almost too nice to dislodge the snow. We sat on the bench in the entry foyer and eased out of our boots, placing them on a tray, and we hung our drenched coats on hooks above neat storage cubes. Alex led us a few steps to the living room. He flipped a switch, and the elegant chandelier hanging from the high ceiling illuminated the grandness of the classic old townhouse. A marble-mantled fireplace was the focal point of the room. I gazed at the expansive living room with a massive kitchen and dining area beyond it. Our apartment could fit into this floor alone twice. 

We sat at the round table that fit perfectly into the curved floor-to-ceiling windows and unloaded our backpacks. The streetlamp outside showed the snow falling almost horizontally from the wind. Suddenly the front door opened, and a man burst in swinging two cloth bags, parsley and other items poking out. “Gosh, it is brutal out there,” he said, dropping the shopping bags. He eagerly took off his backpack and winter attire, alternating his feet on the bench to remove his boots. He peered into the living room. 

“Hey.” Alex said. “This is Sam. From Math Club.”

“Hi, Sam. From Math Club. Nice to meet you. I’m Joe.” His voice was melodic. He had a warm smile that lit up his face. His thin frame was topped with wavy auburn hair that featured a cowlick and a slightly receding hairline. He wore a maroon pullover sweatshirt and jeans. I searched for a bit of Alex in him but came up empty. Nada. The thick gold band on Joe’s left ring finger glinted as he hoisted the bags and headed down the hall that ran parallel to the large living room. “I’m making chili for dinner. Sam, you’re welcome to stay. You guys want a snack? How about some snow-dampened chips and salsa?” he chuckled, now in the kitchen unpacking the bags.

“Sure, thanks,” Alex said, turning a page in his calculus book. 

“Thanks!” I added. My stomach actually growled at Joe’s mention of food. I took out my phone and texted my mom. ‘Staying for dinner with Alex from Math Club.’ I didn’t expect a response right away, as she was working.

A girl, a few years younger than us arrived next, bellowing “Ohmygod, It’s freezing!!” as her greeting. 

“Hey, Baby,” Joe responded from the kitchen. 

“Hey, Ab, this is Sam. He’s staying for dinner.” Alex added, “That’s my sister, Abigail.”

“Hi, Sam,” she said, flashing a familiar smile that lit up her face. 

“Hi,” I greeted. 

As she peeled off her layers a thick mass of shoulder length wavy auburn hair was revealed. She was all Joe. “Daddy?” she said, as she proceeded to the kitchen. There was an exchange about homework and a snack, and she grabbed a banana and granola bar from bowls on the counter. She settled at the large rectangular table made of thick wood slabs. Joe laid out placements and matching napkins and supplied her with a plate and glass of water.

We worked on our calculus homework, and ten minutes later, Joe approached carrying a tray which he unloaded: a large carved ceramic bowl brimming with tortilla chips, followed by a smaller matching bowl with chunky salsa. Two small plates and glasses of water were next. Finally, he laid two small cloth napkins on the table.

“Thanks,” Alex said, finally looking up with a smile, which Joe returned.

“Thanks, this looks great,” I said enthusiastically. I fingered the napkin. “Nice.” I added. Joe smiled at me and headed back to the kitchen.

A little while later, the door opened again and was slammed shut. “This MUST be a blizzard,” the figure exclaimed with a British accent. Gloves were shoved in coat pockets. A leg was raised and a boot was taken off while the other strong leg supported the body, balance and posture perfect. The other boot followed with equal grace. The scarf was unwrapped and the coat unzipped. With a flourish, both dripping items were hung on a hook. Removal of the tight wool cap revealed a head of thick blonde, wavy tresses, which, unleashed, were slicked back with large hands. Donning a perfectly fitting navy-blue wool sweater and gray wool slacks, he looked like he just walked off a Ralph Lauren photoshoot.

The muscular figure smiled directly at Alex and uttered softly, “Hey, Buddy.” The baritone voice was a masculine blend of firm and soft. He looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t place it. In that moment, I was struck by his resemblance to Alex – or rather, Alex’s resemblance to him, which was uncanny. It must be amazing to see yourself - your future self - every day. 

“Hey, Babe, come in and warm up.” Joe called from the kitchen. 

Babe? This was getting good. This was incredible actually, I thought as I took in the paradigm. It’s one thing to see it in a television show. It’s another to see it right in front of you.

“Hey, Dad.” Alex said, dispassionately, cause, well, for him, unlike for me, this was not a new situation. This was not a sudden realization that this family had two dads and two kids, each fathered by one of said dads. This was not a comforting visit with a happy family living in a beautiful house, with carved bowls and cloth napkins. “This is Sam from Math Club. He’s staying for dinner.” To Alex, that’s what this was.

“Hello, Sam. Glad you’ll be joining us. I’m Ben.” He said politely, with a smile. His high cheek bones were flushed red with cold. He pulled his phone out of his pants pocket. Light eyes glanced at the phone coddled in his left hand, the ring finger sporting a gold band. “Oh, sheesh, transit is shutting down. The Mayor has declared emergency travel only. Looks like you’re stuck with the likes of us for the night.” Ben laughed. “Can you call home?” he asked concerned.

“Oh, my mom’s working at the hospital-well, all night now. I’ll text her. Thanks for putting me up. And putting up with me,” I quipped, grabbing my phone, typing ‘staying over now.’ Being at the hospital, my mother would have received the snow warning early. She texted back. “Great, please thank his mom and dad for me.” I concluded the discussion with ‘K.’ I couldn’t help noticing that my mom, a single parent, assumed everyone had two parents-and those parents were a man and a woman. Unconscious bias is a real thing. Note to self: enlighten. 

I grabbed a chip and took small bites. My eyes followed Ben, who stopped at Abigail and kissed her head. “Hey, Love.” She giggled. “Any questions about math should be directed in there,” he said with a laugh, motioning to us in the living room. “You had a good day?” 

“Yeah,” she responded, turning her attention back to her notebook and worksheet. 

Ben crossed to the kitchen, where Joe was tending to a pot on the cooktop, set in the expansive marble island. He sidled up to Joe who lit up with that infectious smile, and put the spoon down on a plate. I grabbed another chip and resumed my munching. I glanced at Alex. He was bent over his notebook, eating chips from a pile with his left hand and scribbling with a pencil in his right hand, oblivious to his family. And why shouldn’t he be. Some version of this happened at the end of most days. It’s what he knew. Just like my mom listened to her favorite radio station while making dinner, occasionally dancing salsa and humming along, as I did my homework at our tiny kitchen table. You think you have just a normal life until someone else comes along and sees it through fresh eyes.

I scooped up some dip with another chip. My eyes focused on the scene unfolding in perfect view from our table across the living room. Dinner and a show. Joe turned toward Ben, his hands landed on the blonde’s waist, and he massaged it with his thumbs. I heard pieces of Ben telling him about the storm situation and mention my name. “Sure, I’ll set up the air mattress after dinner.” Joe said. Ben put his phone on the counter and moved behind Joe, as Joe released Ben’s waist and turned toward the stovetop. Ben’s hands found their way to Joe’s shoulders, and he started to massage them, as Joe leaned back into Ben. Joe picked up his knife and chopped some parsley, adding it to the pot. And they bantered. And laughed. As couples do, making dinner, sharing their days. It was very natural, but it felt very intimate. I felt like I shouldn’t be watching, but I couldn’t tear myself away.

“Is something the matter?” Alex’s sharp inquiry and matching gaze pierced my viewing pleasure. His raised eyes bore into me, suddenly aware of my intense focus on the activity in the kitchen. Ok, the men in the kitchen. It was clear he was not concerned that something was the matter with me. He was concerned about a judgement being formed. Was his recently invited house guest a homophobic ass? Was his visitor seeing his family as an oddity? I wondered if anyone had actually had that reaction to Alex’s family. 

Little did he know; no, just the opposite, in fact. The only ‘matter’ was it was so right. It was reassuring. It was what I hoped for. I wasn’t sure about a lot, but ever since junior high, my mom and I volunteered together at hospital events with kids. I knew I wanted a family. I connected naturally with kids. It was easier for me to start and maintain conversations with them than my peers usually. And, they responded positively to me and liked to spend time with me. Sometimes when I was with a kid, I wondered what it would be like to be there for them, even when they were sick, and help them realize their dreams and grow up. Obviously it was a long-term goal. Very long-term. I mean, I had only a few kisses with a guy, nothing close to a relationship.

I knew I had to respond to Alex quickly before I was put out into the raging snow. Seriously, I could tell Alex was annoyed and concerned, and he had a right to be.

I took a breath. “No, no, nothing’s the matter. All’s great. I just…really appreciate your parents having me over.” I rebounded quickly, considering I didn’t have a planned answer. 

“I think a fire is in order.” Ben entered the living room and walked over to the fireplace, interrupting our awkward discussion. He set the metal screen aside.

“I’ll help.” Alex kept his now softened eyes trained on me as pushed away from the table, though there still seemed to be some questioning in his expression. He joined his kneeling father at the fireplace. They exchanged glances, and then their hands quickly got to work, crumpling newspapers from the pile next to the couch and adding small sticks from a tin bucket. Alex and his dad were easy together, working in tandem. Their hands touched occasionally as they maneuvered the fire contents.

Ben lifted two logs from the sturdy basket next to the fireplace, placing them parallel across the iron rack in the fire box, then he rested a third on top. 

“You have to separate them a bit to let the air circulate,” Ben said, pointing to the log tower. Alex nodded. 

“All set for after-dinner lounging,’ Ben said, as he rose and moved the screen back.

I stood up to stretch my legs and view their handiwork. “Very nice,” I said. My eyes landed on the photos on the mantle. One photo featured Ben and Joe facing each other, dressed in suits, holding hands at their wedding. In another, they were so young, clad in tuxedos, Ben in white, standing joyously with several other young men. The one in the middle was holding what looked to be an Oscar statue. What the….? I’d have to get THAT story. A double frame held photos of Ben with baby Alex and Joe with baby Abigail. And the last photo on display showed all four of them, taken recently, posing in front of the River Thames with Big Ben in the background. It must be amazing to be able to jet off to another country for a family vacation, I thought wistfully.

“Chow’s on, everyone! Guys, bring the snacks to the table, thanks.” Joe called, as he carried the big pot of chili to the table and placed it in the center, surrounded by small bowls of toppings.

I brought the chips and salsa to the dining table, and Alex put our plates in the sink and took our cups to the table. Ben lit votive candles, and he and Joe sat. We joined Abigail at the table and started passing the chili, chips and toppings.

Abigail regaled us with some junior high tales. Alex and I exchanged a few glances amidst laughs, acknowledging the drama that was so real at that time, relieved it was behind us. Been there done that.

“This is all great. Thanks for having me.” I interjected, as the conversation halted.

“You are quite welcome,” Joe said, scooping his last bit of chili with a chip and grabbing his napkin from his lap.

As we finished eating, Ben’s smiled at me with Alex’s eyes. “So, Sam, what does your mom do at the hospital?”

“Oh, she’s a head Pediatric Nurse at Langone. She and I moved here from Upstate in July after she got the job.” I hoped the added detail of our arrival would provide enough information to close the discussion about me. It did not.

Joe looked at me intensely and gave a nod. “Must be a big transition for you both. Though there will be lots of lucky New York City kids and parents.” He broke into his warm grin.

“Wow, I can’t imagine starting over like at a new school. Do you like it here?” The magnitude of the change registered in Abigail’s widened, empathetic eyes.

I nodded, “I do, but it’s been an adjustment for sure,” I allowed.

“I bet, our crazy school alone.” Alex stated.

“Impressive career move for your mom, indeed!” Ben said, putting down his fork and dabbing his full lips with the napkin and folding it, laying it on the table. “Not easy to start over. When I moved to New York, it felt like another planet in some ways.” He looked up as if recalling that transition.

“And I was from another big city,” Ben added.

“Across the pond,” Joe interjected, with a grin.

“Worth the change for people you love,” Ben concluded softly as he winked at Joe. Then he stood up and collected some dishes. “Great dinner, Joe.” He blew out the candles, and his fingertips grazed Joe’s shoulder as he passed him, heading to the kitchen area.

Alex stood, and I joined him in clearing the table.

“How about I get the fire going?” Ben said, as he picked up his phone from the counter and swiped. “Another 10 inches tonight! Unbelievable!” 

“Snow Day, Snow Day!!” Abigail chanted. 

“Nothing yet.” Ben said.

“Daddy, can we toast marshmallows in the fireplace?” Abigail asked hopefully.

“I think we have s’mores stuff,” Joe said, getting up and searching through a few cabinets. “Aha!” he pulled out graham crackers and marshmallows and took some dark chocolate from the fridge. Ben retrieved long metal skewers from the elegant cabinet in the dining area and took the ingredients and a few plates to the fireplace. He lit a match and the flames whooshed up the flue, emitting a warm light into the room. We put the marshmallows on the skewers as the fire died down and extended the rods over the flames, watching the puffy whiteness turn tan.

Back in the kitchen cleaning up with Joe, Ben checked his phone. “New York City schools closed tomorrow.” He called. We all cheered. I took a deep breath, feeling relaxed, eager for the rest of my visit to unfold.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Alex share information about their families and themselves as Sam's visit with the Jones-Mazzello family continues.

Part 2

After s’mores we sat on the floor in front of the fire, leaning against a couch. Small flames lapped at the last blackened log, and suddenly, it disintegrated into the ashes. Bits of hot orange poked out from the grey soot. I stared enraptured by the fire’s final act behind the screen. If we had school tomorrow, I’d be hitting calc, but I felt light and carefree, such a rare feeling. The goal of doing nothing was so unusual, so welcome.

“Want to play a video game?” Alex stood up, clearly restless.

“Sure.”

He led the way up the staircase in the entry foyer. We passed the master bedroom with a perfectly made bed and a fireplace and then, a study with desks and free weights and a bench in the corner. Another room had a closed door. Up a second staircase, we passed Abigail’s room. She was sitting up on her bed, applying nail polish and watching a video on the laptop perched next to her. A large bathroom with an elegant footed bathtub and walk-in shower was next. In Alex’s room at the end of the hall, Joe was on the floor making up the air mattress bed, as Ben stood easing a comforter into a blue and white-striped duvet cover. 

“I left some towels and a new toothbrush for you,” Joe said, motioning to the dresser. “Bathroom is next door. Use anything you need, and feel free to take a shower.” He was very gracious, and clearly enjoyed being a host.

“Thank you,” I said. 

Alex went over to his desk and turned on his computer. 

“You can pick a game.” He said as the screen lit up. I followed him but would have been content watching the domesticity on the other side of the room. He pulled over a chair for me.

“Ok, you’re all set,” Joe said, smoothing the comforter Ben had draped on the mattress. “Good night, Guys.” He stood up and walked out to the hallway.

“Alex can give you some sleep clothes,” Ben said. “Let us know if you need anything. Good night.” 

He peeled out of the room and joined Joe, meeting Alex’s eyes, before they walked away.

“Thanks so much. Good night.” I said. 

“Good night,” Alex said.

“Exit Stage Left.” Alex mumbled, as their footsteps faded down the stairs. “It’s good when they leave just before you max out and want to scream,” Alex said sardonically. 

The joke was lost on me. Being doted on by not one, but two dads was unfathomable. Yes, I was sure they could be annoying; all parents can be. My mom truly loved me and took care of me, but between her work schedule and handling the household, there wasn’t a lot of time and energy for doting, especially since we moved. I got it. We had our occasional movie nights and Christmas rituals, when we just hung out and joked, letting the pressures of our day-to-day lives slip away for a few hours. I was pretty self-sufficient from a young age, and she wore a veil of guilt about it. Yeah, some things are harder. 

I felt myself looking down, and Alex sensed my unease.

“Did…are they divorced?” Alex asked tentatively, seemingly afraid of what could be revealed. 

“No. My dad left before I was born. Never met him.” I held my gaze down. 

Yup, I was pretty sure that was unexpected. Alex was silent, and I regretted mentioning it and introducing uncomfortable tension into what had been a relaxed and fun visit. Anxiety coursed through me. One tell-tale sign was that, without realizing it, I was holding my breath. I worried that maybe I’d be seen as damaged goods. Or needy. Or problematic. Or high maintenance. I felt a compulsion to sweep it away, to return to the usual image I projected: smart, low key, easy-going. I quickly searched for a new topic to break the awkwardness, looking up in thought. Math seemed like a far reach at the moment. As I ran through categories in my mind, I could feel Alex staring at me, which heightened my anxiety.

“Well, you obviously didn’t get his brain, and that’s a good thing,” Alex said suddenly. I looked up quizzically. “He must be really stupid. To miss out on being with you.”

You can’t always pinpoint the time when you go from being an acquaintance to a friend. But in that moment, Alex became my friend. It was a sweet and supportive thing to say, a clear declaration of being on my side. The compliment was wrapped in empathy, acknowledging lingering sadness. I felt myself relax and became aware that yes, I could breathe. 

I looked up at him. “You were so wanted.” I hoped I didn’t sound jealous.

Now he looked quizzically. I continued. “For them to have you-all the planning, research, legal stuff.” The money, I thought, but didn’t say. “Was the egg donor also the surrogate?”

“Yeah, ”Alex, said a bit bewildered. It was obvious, like me, he didn’t often talk about the intricacies of his family life-or in this case, his conception and birth. “Well, it’s not always done that way. The egg donor is often different than the surrogate. But they were all agreeable, and fortunately, it worked out.” 

“Same donor and surrogate for Abigail?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, adding with a smirk, “Well, they had such a good outcome with me.” 

“Indeed, they did.” I acknowledged. “Are you in touch with her?”

“Lena? We speak on occasion. Usually about a school project. She’s a professor of microbiology at Stanford. She and her wife have a daughter. Oh, crap," Alex interjected suddenly. "I’m not sure if I’m supposed to talk about her identity.” He looked a little worried.

“I’ll hold off posting it.” I reassured with a joke. He nodded seriously, still processing the discussion.

“I hadn’t thought about it.” Alex admitted. “I mean, that they wanted me. Wanted us. I guess it was a lot for them to do it. Dad stopped working for a few years when I was young. He’s an actor, so he has to be away for months at a time. It was too hard to separate…we were so clo...” He caught himself. “Sorry, that was stupid. I’m a jerk ….”

“It’s ok,” I said. “It’s your reality. You think I wouldn’t know?” I thought of their glances and the way Ben lit up when he entered the living room, how his eyes searched for and lingered on the sight that welcomed him home, Alex. 

“Joe took some work he didn’t love, but …everyone makes sacrifices, I guess.” Alex added, “Your mom did too.” It was a statement seeking validation. 

I nodded and revealed: “We didn’t go out for fun too much, especially when my mom was in school and working. Once for my birthday, she took me to an arcade for lunch and a few games. I really wanted to get this light saber with my tickets. She let me play all afternoon so I could win enough tickets to get it. She played too! Ms. Pac-Man.” I laughed at the memory of her standing before the game, her whole body working that machine to rack up as many points as she could. "I knew it was a big expense for us," I continued. "She had to adjust the budget, cause she was paying off that credit card for a few months.”

“That was really nice of her. To get you what you wanted.” Alex said. 

Ok. Enough about me, I thought. “I wondered what you call Joe.” I ventured, once again showing my skill of switching topics off myself. 

Alex laughed. “Well, we’re in transition now. I used to call him Papa, but it seems weird now, so lately, I’ve been calling him Joe. He says it’s ok, but….I’m not sure. It seems a little distant. I mean I see him as a dad…”

“Was it hard having two dads?” I asked. 

He shrugged. “Mostly kids were accepting. The worst was kids asking, ‘Where’s your mom?’ I got that lot. It was awkward. I didn’t want to get into it, so I just said, “I have two dads.” When I was young, it made me feel bad. I felt so different. And sometimes, they actually said I was weird. It’s harder now that I’m older in some ways, honestly. People say stupid things. I’m more aware of the subtle comments and assumptions people make about gay families. This kid at camp said I must be gay cause ‘it’s passed on.’ Not sure what he was thinking--like through DNA? Or like they teach me how to be gay? God knows.” He rolled his eyes. “So, yeah, and people assume I’m gay. Which I’m not,” he added. 

He switched screens and brought up Exhibit A: photos of his favorite female celebrities in very revealing outfits.

“Well, you definitely rack up some hetero points for having those photos.” I deadpanned. We both cracked up. 

“Who are your favorites?” Alex asked, looking intensely and longingly at the photo collection on his screen.

“Well….” I dragged it out, my voice rising in pitch. I could have just picked a photo to end the discussion and move on. But, I felt I didn’t need to. I didn’t want to.

For the last few years, I’d been getting ready. Preparing to come out, anticipating the right time, planning the right words, picking the right audience. Finally, I felt emboldened to cross the great divide between my thoughts and feelings and the place where I could speak my truth. In that moment, for better or worse, I accepted that I was ready. Getting ready was a concept whose time had passed, its last remnants discarded on the floor of Alex’s room.

“None, really.” I answered. “My celebrity crushes …” I hesitated. “are guys.”

I could see the wheels turning in Alex’s head: why I had stared at his dads. Yes, part of it was the concept of not one, but two fathers, but the other part was me envisioning the life I could have. Their life. A loving husband and children and a professional life that afforded a beautiful home, travel-and an unplanned afternoon of video games. 

“Well, you certainly get A LOT of points for THAT around here.” Alex retorted without missing a beat. He laughed, and I joined in. I almost added that he wasn’t my type, in case he was uncomfortable. I didn’t, because he didn’t seem to be. It felt both bold and scary to have said it out loud. I felt that Alex would accept it as a part of me, but wouldn’t see it as totally defining me, because clearly, that’s the way it was for his dads.

We played some more of the game and got ready for bed. I texted a bit with my mom. She said things were pretty quiet at the hospital, and she would sleep on a cot in the staff room. We ended the discussion with I love you’s. 

The snow was still coming down lit by the streetlights, as Alex closed the shutters built into the wood windows frames. He climbed into his bed. I crawled on the air mattress, and tucked myself in, letting the weight of the soft sheet and comforter ease me toward sleep. 

“Bed ok?” Alex asked.

“Hmmm. I’m definitely writing a 5-star review on Yelp tomorrow.” I said, unable to laugh as I felt myself drifting off. “Night, Alex.”

Alex chuckled. “Good night, Sam.”

*****  
I sensed movement around me as I awoke, but the warmth of the bed and the darkness pulled me back to sleep. Finally, I woke again. Alex’s bed was empty, the comforter pulled up haphazardly. The aromas of cinnamon and bacon seeped into my nostrils. Was I a horrible guest for sleeping in? I checked my phone: 8:45. My mom wrote at 8:15. ‘Heading home soon. Trains just started running. Let me know when you’ll be home, Can’t wait to see you!’ A heart emoji followed. 

‘Hey, just got up. Will keep you posted.’ I texted back, feeling a longing for her and wondering if we could spend a leisurely day together. 

I rolled out of bed and removed the sweatpants Alex had given me. I threw on my sweatshirt and jeans, ducked into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. I recalled Joe’s offer to take a shower, and a hot shower was appealing, but I thought I’d see what was going on downstairs. 

In the kitchen, Joe was once again at the cooktop on the marble island and Abigail was seated on a high stool next to him cutting up strawberries.

“Good morning! I hope you slept well.” Joe said.

“Good morning. Yes, very well, thank you.” I answered, thinking I could easily go upstairs and fall asleep again.

Before I could offer to help, Joe said, “In this house, the blondes shovel snow and the gingers make breakfast.” 

“You know it,” Abigail smirked. She definitely had her dad’s sass. 

“And what about the black-haired guests?” I asked, on queue.

“Dealer’s choice.” Joe said. “Or you can just relax.” He added.

“I’ll go outside. Looks like the snow’s slowing down.” I stared out the large picture window in the dining area that had a built-in seat with cushions and pillows. Deep piles of snow were stacked on the tree branches in the backyard.

“Slowing, but windy,” Joe warned.

I bundled up. Outside, Alex was chopping dense blocks of snow with a pick, and Ben was shoveling the lose pieces. 

“Hey,” I said.

“Hi,” Alex’s smile indicated he was happy to see me. 

“How can I help?” I asked.

“Hi, thanks, Sam. You can salt after I shovel,” Ben said motioning to the bag of salt under the stoop, where there was another door. I salted where Ben had cleared. After a few minutes I offered to trade roles with Alex and used the pick to clear the rest of the path in front of the house. We continued our efforts and within 20 minutes, a path was cleared in the front yard, as well as the sidewalk, and finally, the steps. 

“Ok, mates,” Ben said, “This looks really good. Thanks. Let’s get breakfast!”

We climbed the steps. Alex tossed a final handful of salt, and the crystals bounced down them. He left the bag on the top of the stoop. We entered the warm house, shedding our layers before getting overheated. 

“Perfect timing!” Joe called, hearing us. 

The table was set again, and platters of French toast, bacon and fruit were passed. We dug in hungrily. “This is all delicious!” I said. 

“Sam’s giving Chez Jones-Mazzello five stars on Yelp,” Alex laughed, recalling my pre-slumber joke. 

“Well, you’re welcome any time,” Ben said, smiling at me and shooting his customary soft glance at Alex. 

A knot formed in my stomach. It was the knot of post-snow day reality: back to studying, my small apartment, my usual routine. We helped clear the table, and then Alex led us upstairs. He opened the shutters to reveal the sun attempting to peak out from the quickly moving dark clouds. 

“You, uh, want to do some studying?” Alex ventured. I did, but I felt the pull to leave, to see my mom. I also didn’t want to overstay my welcome. Hopefully, there would be other visits. I’d get to try that shower another time.

“I’m gonna get going. My mom’s on her way home.” I said.

“Oh, sure,” Alex said right away. “She must miss you.”

I shrugged. “I guess.”

“I’m glad you came over. It was fun.” Alex paused and looked sideways. “Does she know?” He asked hesitantly.

My face must have shown that I didn’t follow the question. 

“What we talked about last night….” Alex was dancing around it, which was interesting. Just because something is part of your life doesn’t mean you always know how to talk about it.

“No. I haven’t told her I’m gay.” I said directly. “I guess l have to plan a big reveal, a big dance number, maybe,” I tried to add some lightness, our serious conversation no doubt in both of our minds now. “Actually, maybe I’ll start with your dads…that could be a good way to ease into it.” And correct her assumption about Alex’s family, I thought.

“That makes sense,” Alex affirmed.

“I won’t tell them,” Alex added quickly, referring to his parents. 

“Ok,” I acknowledged, kneeling and dismantling the bed and folding the comforter. “Where should I take these?” I asked of the linens, focused more on concluding my guest status in a positive way, than on the revelation of my sexual orientation. 

“It’s ok. We’ll take care of it.” Alex said. “I’ll keep your toothbrush. For next time.” 

“Thanks, on both counts.” I smiled, happy to hear Alex also hoped I’d be back. “I should get my stuff downstairs.” 

“Yeah.” He led the way out and we took the stairs. At the round table in the living room, I collected my book and notebook and zipped up my book bag. It felt like a long time had passed since we had arrived at this home yesterday. I glanced at the fireplace. Memories of last night invoked a feeling of warmth in me.

“You heading out, Sam?” Joe entered the living room. “Your mom get home ok?”

“Yes. She’s on her way now. Thanks – and thanks so much for having me. I really appreciate it. I had a great time.” I said.

“Please come back. After you write that 5-star review.” Joe said with a wink. 

Ben came downstairs and walked over to me, extending a hand. “Great meeting you, Sam. Thanks for your help shoveling.”

“Thank you for having me.” I shook his hand.

Ben and Joe smiled and disappeared into the kitchen. 

Alex walked me to the door. I wanted to thank him for giving me a glimpse into his life, for letting me see through the window into my own future. And, there was him being supportive of me and accepting me. And for being my friend. A real friend.

“Guess we only got through half our homework.” I said instead. “See you tomorrow. Thanks, Alex.”

“Time to hit the books,” Alex said. He opened the front door. “Yup. You’re welcome. Bye, Sam.”


End file.
